


Mercy

by icylangdon



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse
Genre: Angst, Angst and Porn, BDSM, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Choking, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, F/M, Face Slapping, Face-Fucking, Facials, Murder, Orgasm Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Verbal Humiliation, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 10:52:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17282693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icylangdon/pseuds/icylangdon
Summary: with your life on the line as michael closes in on you, the sole survivor of his vengeful attack on your coven, you come to realize that desperate times call for desperate measures.(a two-shot series)





	1. Mercy

Your world as you’d once known it was over.

Huddled in the corner of the dining room, the once-pure white walls now stained with angry splotches of deep maroon, you anticipated what was only inevitable. Tears trailed down your face and wet your clothing- around you laid the lifeless bodies of your coven, your sisters.

You knew Cordelia was upstairs with Myrtle and Mallory, but besides them, you were the only one left. And now, as the crisp footsteps of expensive shoes on wood flooring drew closer to you, it was evident that your time had come to join the fallen ones.

“Now where, oh where, could our last little friend be?”

The man’s voice was cool and steady, tone mocking as he rounded the corner of the dining table, putting you directly in his line of sight. You had no idea how you’d survived the initial slaughter; luck, you supposed, although whatever “luck” you might’ve managed to grasp onto was now gone. As the shards flew through the air towards your coven, you’d ducked, pressing yourself flat against the ground and silently praying to yourself. Somehow, it had worked. You’d done the same thing when Mead, or Mead’s apparent robotic replica, had opened fire on the remaining few. Now you were all alone, just you and the all-powerful antichrist who held a personal vendetta against your kind.

You were doomed.

Weakly, you looked at him, vision partially obscured from the hot tears that refused to cease their falling. He was dressed in all black, hands folded neatly behind him as his eyes fell upon you. When your eyes met, he grinned.

“There she is,” he said with mock enthusiasm. “You almost missed out on all the fun.”

“P-please,” you sobbed, knowing all the same that nothing would change your fate. You couldn’t help it, though; you were terrified.

“Your coven fucked with my family,” he said, suddenly dropping his previous act in favor of a more serious approach. Still, you could see the smirk playing at his lips as he looked you over. He was fucking enjoying this. “And for that, you have to pay.”

“I didn’t know- I didn’t- it wasn’t-“ you were incoherent, scrambling for words as if anything you said would make any difference now.

He came closer to you, and you could swear you felt the raw, sinful power radiating from his every pore. You knew he could disintegrate you into a pile of dust right then if he so chose, but you were sure he’d opt instead for something a bit more personal. He cocked his head to the side, a nasty smile appearing on his face.

“I can’t understand a word out of your mouth.”

You pressed your back into the wall, cowering as he came close enough to touch you. You looked up at him, at that impeccable blond hair and flawless skin and chiseled jaw, his features combining to form a face of pure evil. And god damn it, that face of evil was beautiful.

You racked your brain for your last few options at survival, never being one to give up easily. Your stomach dropped as you realized there were no more options- a shaking mess of useless magical ability, you were cornered. There would be no running, and even if you were able to, you were sure he’d disintegrate you before you reached the doorway. You looked down at his well-shined leather shoes, slowly easing yourself into the task of looking into your soon-to-be killer’s face.

You dragged your gaze upwards, eyes landing on the presumably expensive belt that was threaded through his belt loops. And then you had an idea. A crazy one, at that. But an idea was an idea, and it was worth a shot.

Looking up into his apathetic eyes, you prepared yourself to beg him again for your life. But this time, you’d give him something of an incentive to let you live. “Please,” you said shakily, tears still leaking from the corner of your eyes. “I’ll do anything.”

You brought yourself forward to rest on your knees, coming face-to-face with his crotch. Before he could react, you began undoing his belt with trembling hands, glancing up at him nervously every few seconds, fearing the worst reaction. He furrowed his eyebrows, clearly caught off guard by your bold actions, but then he licked his lips.

Back came the smug exterior, and he let out a dry chuckle. “So this is how you’re begging for your life? Getting on your knees and sucking my cock? I have to say, I didn’t expect this.”

Wordlessly, you released the button of his pants from its hold and worked down the zipper, reaching impatiently inside to feel his warm, massive bulge. To your surprise, he was already semi-erect. If not given the circumstances, you probably would’ve been having the time of your life.

“It’s certainly refreshing to see one of your kind actually attempting to do something useful, though,” he taunted as you pulled his cock out of the confines of his boxers. It was big, to say the least, striped with protruding veins around the thick circumference.

You met his gaze, wordlessly asking for his permission to proceed. He smirked down at you, easing his cock further out of his pants. “Well, go on. Convince me to spare your pathetic life.”

You wrapped your lips around the tip, tasting salty precum on your tongue. He sighed as you slid your head further down, taking as much of him as you could, and his hand found itself on the back of your head. He held your hair firmly at the root, following your motions as you bobbed up and down, reaching one hand up to grip his shaft.

“You’re going to have to do a lot better than that,” he said, thrusting your head forward suddenly so you choked on him. Although you couldn’t see his face, you could imagine the look of satisfaction that was bound to be plastered across it.

Saliva made its way down your chin and you let out a stifled gag, a jolt of pain shooting through your scalp as he jerked your head forward for a second time. You couldn’t believe this was happening, or that he’d even allowed you to get this far. “Put your hands behind your back. Let’s see how far you can take me.”

Immediately, you did as you were told, knowing that you couldn’t afford to disobey him. The second your hand left him, he forced himself deep into your throat, your nose nearly brushing against his balls. You cried out against him, struggling to breathe, but he only tightened his grip on your head to keep you firmly in place. You pulled back slightly, before bringing him all the way back into your mouth, burying his cock in your throat. You sucked him like your life depended on it, which made sense, since your life actually did depend on this.

“I wonder how your supreme would feel about this. One of her own sucking off the enemy like a whore,” he drawled. “It’s pathetic, really. You could have chosen to keep your dignity, die with honor with the rest of your sisters. And yet…”

Your cheeks bloomed red with shame; he was right, as much as you didn’t want to admit it. This was pathetic. But you were desperate; you didn’t want to die. You had so many things planned for yourself. He grunted, letting go of his composure for a fraction of a second, pushing his hips forward as he kept your head locked in place. Your hands fumbled nervously behind you, clasping and un-clasping them as you focused on breathing through your nose.

His words halted and he began to fuck your face rapidly, bringing his other hand down to grab another fist full of your hair. He panted, letting out raspy moans that sounded more like inhuman growls to you. Your eyes burned, snot dripping from your nose, face prickling with humiliation as he used you so mercilessly.

His cock twitched and you squeezed your eyes shut, preparing to swallow his load. To your surprise, though, he removed himself from you, looking down at you over his massive length.

“You don’t get to swallow my cum.”

He loosely jerked himself, parting his lips as he looked up at the ceiling. All you could see was his perfect, angular jaw and the drooling head of his cock in front of your face as his fist pumped it up and down.

It only took a few seconds of this for him to cum, and then you had his warm load all over your face. He watched your expression shift, anticipating your reaction with a cocky half-smile as his cum crudely painted your features. You reached up to wipe it away from your eyes, mouth trembling and throat aching.

He brought his hand under your chin and tilted your head up, admiring the way he’d defaced you. You could hardly bring yourself to make eye contact, too embarrassed with your actions, but you knew you had to.

“Now thank me,” he said coolly.

He tucked himself neatly back into his boxers and zipped up his pants, buckling his belt noisily as he looked at you expectantly.

“Th-thank you for sparing me,” you said, your voice cracked and raspy.

He raised his eyebrows at you. “Who said anything about sparing you? I still haven’t decided if I’m going to let you live”. His eyes glinted as he witnessed your face fall, all remaining color draining from your skin. “You’re going to thank me for letting you suck my cock.”

You whimpered, a fresh set of tears making way down your face and mixing into your saliva, which had already melded with Michael’s cum. “M-Michael, thank you for- thank you for letting me suck your cock. Thank you, thank you-“

He rolled his eyes, reaching to grab your hair without warning; you flinched, jumping when he spoke. “Enough. I’m going to let you live. Only because it’s apparent to me that your only real worth is on your knees, and therefore, you’re no threat to me.”

You sniffled, too afraid to wipe the back of your mouth or even blink, worrying that the smallest movement might make him change his mind.

“Truthfully I should be having you lick the bottom of my shoe to thank me for being so charitable,” he said, pausing to turn over his shoulder, eyes trailing over the staircase that was visible through the opened double doors. “But I have other matters to attend to.”

With one swift motion, he pulled you up forcefully by your hair and threw you to the cold ground. You laid there on your side in a heap, heart racing, looking up at this all-powerful man with fear and awe. He observed you back, tilting his head as if to admire a piece of artwork he’d created, his tongue dipping out of his mouth to run across his plump upper lip.

“We’ll cross paths again, eventually,” he said, turning on his heel.

Cradling your body with your arms, curling your knees up to your chest, you watched him go. He sauntered through the doorway, looking pristine and utterly untouched in his fancy clothes as if he hadn’t just annihilated an entire coven of witches. Not a strand of his blond curls were out of place, and not a drop of blood had touched his porcelain skin.

You, on the other hand, were a shivering mess. You laid amongst the carnage, too weak to clean yourself off, unsure of how you’d even managed to make it out alive.

Tomorrow you’d look at yourself in the mirror, questioning the person you had become. You’d refrain from spitting at your reflection for allowing such a man to defile you, for betraying your coven. You’d tear yourself apart with guilt, wondering why there was still a tiny inkling of satisfaction hidden deep beneath your self-loathing.

You’d save that for tomorrow, though. Right now, all you wanted to do was lie still with a blank mind, images of the antichrist flickering behind your eyelids.


	2. Mercy (part two)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> after your first encounter with michael langdon, you cross paths with him for a second time. to your dismay, he has no plans to let you forget what happened.

i.

“My name is Langdon, and I represent the cooperative.”

Holy shit. Your jaw nearly dropped when you saw the man who stood before the outpost, bathed in the yellow light of the fireplace, shadows making their way down the grooves of his face. This couldn’t be. There was no fucking way, and yet- 

There he was: Michael fucking Langdon. There was no doubt about it. He looked fairly different from the last time you’d seen him, but you knew you weren’t mistaken. He’d grown his once-short, curly hair down past his shoulders, and was that…eyeshadow he was wearing? 

“I won’t sugar coat the situation,” he said, his tone confident and smooth. If you didn’t already know who he was, you’d probably be buying into whatever bullshit he was trying to sell. “Humanity is on the brink of failure.”

Your peers seemed entranced as he spoke, and you couldn’t blame them. He had an alluring way about him, you had to admit. Each word that left his mouth sounded as though they were being spoken by god himself. And if only that were true.

Michael looked over the members of the outpost one by one, and you stared down at your palms, refusing to meet your gaze with him.

“My arrival here was crucial to the survival of civilized life on earth,” he continued. You glanced up briefly, somewhat shielded by your long eyelashes, and flushed when you realized he was staring directly at you.

You felt a wave of nausea envelope you, Michael’s lips turning up slightly at the corners before he averted his eyes elsewhere. He knew. This was not good.

If only you’d had your memory wiped like Mallory and Coco; you would’ve much preferred complete ignorance over this. You jumped to your feet, pulling yourself off the couch, and made your way to the door. There was no way you could sit here for the duration of this man’s bullshit.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” came Michael’s voice, and you froze, halfway to the door. Your back to him, you shut your eyes and inhaled sharply.

“I don’t feel well,” you muttered.

“I would recommend listening to what I have to say, ma’am. It’s a matter of life and death, and something about you tells me that you’d do a lot to ensure your survival.”

Your mouth went dry. You didn’t have to be looking at the man to see the smirk that was no doubt playing across his lips. You remained silent, painfully aware of the fact that the rest of the outpost was most likely staring at you in confusion.

You said nothing, hurrying towards the doors and leaving, desperate to lock yourself away in your bedroom. Maybe you’d deal with this later, but right now, all you wanted was to be alone.

ii.

“Mr. Langdon has requested to see you.”

Venable was standing at your bedroom door, one hand on her hip as she regarded your current state. You were hardly dressed, wearing only a thin robe over your undergarments as you’d been asleep before knocks on the door had woken you up.

“Tell him too bad, and that I’m sleeping,” you said. You had no idea what he might have planned for you, but you wanted no part in it.

“He said it was non-negotiable,” she said, pressing her lips into a thin line. Bitch.

“Who the hell is he to tell me what’s non-negotiable?” you snapped. “He thinks he can just show up here and order people around? He can go fuck himself.”

Venable frowned, her grip tightening over her ever-present cane. “Frankly, (y/n), I believe it’s in your best interest to comply with his wishes. He’s here to help us.”

You almost laughed at the thought that Michael Langdon would want to help anybody but himself. “And how do you know he’s not full of shit?”

“Enough,” she said. “You will get dressed immediately, and I will be waiting out here to escort you to his office. Do not keep me waiting.”

Your mouth fell open. What the hell was her problem? What benefit did she get from forcing you to follow Michael’s orders? You supposed she must be afraid of him; most of the outpost had seemed rather intimidated in his presence, so why would Venable be any different? Even you were frightened of him, what he could do; the only difference was that you’d witnessed his wrath first hand.

You glared at Venable before slamming the door in her face, preparing to get dressed. You didn’t want to admit it to yourself, but your heart had begun to hammer in your chest in nervous anticipation of what was to come. As much as you wanted to believe you’d be strong, you weren’t so sure how you would react once it was just the two of you, you at his mercy just like the encounter you’d had with him years before.

You dressed yourself quickly, or at least as quickly as you could- it wasn’t exactly easy putting on a corset without assistance. Then you pulled on your dress, an admittedly beautiful one that you hated for its inconvenience. Why couldn’t you all just dress normally, instead of in these ridiculous Victorian outfits? It made no sense to you.

You swung open the door reluctantly; Venable stood outside, her face illuminated by the candles that lined the walls, and she said nothing. You followed her through the dim hallways, wiping the sweat from your palms on the silky material of your dress, hoping to god you didn’t appear as anxious as you felt. Knowing Michael, he was probably looking forward to fucking with you, making you squirm. Your skin crawled just imagining it.

You reached the door of his office, and Venable stared at you expectantly. “Go on,” she urged firmly. You counted to ten in your head, your fingers brushing the doorknob. What the fuck was he planning to do?

You turned the doorknob and went inside. The room was warm and filled with flickering candles that cast an orange glow over every piece of furniture, and across the desk at which sat Michael Langdon. He smiled at you, but there was no kindness behind it. You swallowed, hands shaking as you shut the door behind you.

“Now, why would you go running off like that when I was speaking to the outpost?” he said, leaning forward to rest his chin in his hand. “Important things were said.”

“I don’t care what you were saying,” you said. “It’s all lies. I know who you are, and you know it.”

He chuckled, standing up from behind his desk and circling around it. “Right. So then you must be aware that I know who you are, little witch.”

You just looked at him, afraid to speak. He came closer to you, only a few feet away now, and paused to look you over.

“I saw the way your face drained of color when you saw me,” he said, half-smiling to himself as he took in your frightened expression. “You didn’t think we’d see ever each other again, did you? But I told you our paths would cross again, isn’t that right?”

“Just- just leave me alone,” you managed, unable to bring yourself to back away. Your limbs felt numb, fists balling up at your sides. He was putting a hold over you, you could tell.

“Leave you alone?” he asked, cocking his head to the side. You hated how fucking amused he always looked, so self-satisfied and smug. “I’m the reason you’re alive, dear.” He used the term of endearment mockingly, sending a shiver down your spine.

“I did what I had to do to survive,” you whispered.

“I chose to spare you,” he said calmly. “It has nothing to do with your own abilities to fight and survive.” He took a step closer to you, licking his lips hungrily. You trembled but did not fight, accepting the fact that you were temporarily paralyzed.

“But if you truly think that you were merely doing what you had to do, perhaps I should have had you demonstrate your survival skills for the entire outpost. I’m sure they would’ve all been very interested to see you sucking cock in exchange for your life.”

“Fuck you, Michael,” you spat, and without missing a beat, he slapped you, hard, across your cheek. You stumbled backwards, your back pressing against the door, and he grabbed your face roughly to look at him.

“I am your fucking god, little whore. You should be before me on your hands and knees, thanking me for sparing you. And yet you show me this disrespect.”

You blinked back tears, your face stinging from where his hand had collided. Sniffling, you spoke, trying hard to keep your voice steady. “So what are you going to do now? Fuck me into submission? I’ll never submit to you.”

He let out a laugh, letting go of you and folding his arms behind his back to look down at you. “Oh, believe me. I wouldn’t fuck you if you were the last woman on earth.”

“Is that supposed to offend me?” you said defiantly, holding back the urge to punch him in his annoyingly perfect face. “I wouldn’t fuck you if you were the last man on earth!”

“Now, (y/n), you should know better than anyone else not to lie to me,” he said, turning around and making his way over to the desk, which he casually leaned against. “If I ordered you to strip down and bend over this desk right now, you’d do it in a heartbeat.”

“You fucking wish,” you said, wavering slightly as you considered his words. Would you, if that’s what he told you to do? If not only because of the fear you held towards him? You felt an ache between your legs and almost gasped, shifting to press your thighs together under your petticoat. What was wrong with you?

“I spared your life, and therefore I own you,” he said, running his ring-clad fingers through his long, golden hair. “Try not to forget that when you’re mouthing off to me.”

You blinked at him, cowering beneath his icy stare.

“Now get the fuck out of my office.”

iii.

It had been several days since your visit to Michael’s office, and you’d been trying your best to avoid him ever since. Of course, there were times that it was simply impossible, and on those occasions you’d keep your eyes fixed on the floor, skin burning as you knew he was watching you, sizing you up. Your worst fear was running into him when the both of you were alone; you were sure he wouldn’t let you slip from his grasp, compelled to continue with his little sadistic power play.

Knowing your luck, this was exactly what ended up happening when you were passing through the dark hallways at night, hoping you could steal some books from the library to momentarily silence your boredom. You turned a corner and nearly screamed when you ran directly into Michael Langdon- at this point, you would’ve preferred to have encountered Venable or Mead.

“Sorry, Sir,” you mumbled, keeping your head down as you made an attempt to walk around his towering frame. To your dismay, but not to your surprise, he grabbed you roughly by the arm and pulled you towards him.

“Where do you think you’re going, witch?” his fingers dug into your skin hard enough to leave bruises, and you winced.

“I was just going to the library,” you said, tugging your arm back in an attempt to escape his hold. He didn’t loosen his grip.

“No, you’re not.” He pushed you up against the wall, the cool metal of his rings digging into your flesh as he wrapped his fingers around your throat. “Get on your knees. It’s time for you to worship your god.”

You widened your eyes, dumbfounded. Was this seriously happening? Panic rose in your throat as you realized you were completely at this man’s whim, struggling under the weight of his chest pressed against you. “Fuck you.”

His eyes seemed to turn completely black, and an evil grin appeared on his lips; his breath was hot on your face as he spoke. “It appears that you still haven’t processed the fact that I own you. So allow me to reiterate.”

He grabbed you by your hair, pulling you along as he pushed open one of the doors in the hallway; you had no idea where he was taking you, but had no time to theorize as he immediately thrust you inside, hard enough to land you face-first onto the cold ground. You whimpered, scrambling around to a sitting position, bottom lip trembling as you looked up to the well-dressed man before you. 

“It’s time you learned to show some respect,” he said, twirling his wrist. Suddenly the entire room lit up, and you looked around; above you hung two chains, punctuated with cuffs large enough for someone’s wrists to fit into. Oh, shit, you thought, as you began to crawl backwards. You felt that unwelcome ache for a second time since you’d been overpowered by Michael, but you were determined to ignore it.

He rolled his neck, surveying you closely; his eyes travelled up your body, which was clothed only in your oversized linen nightgown. “Take it off,” he said, gesturing to the thin garment idly. 

You did as you were told, unable to look away from Michael as you followed his orders. His lips curved up at each corner, pleased to see you finally submitting to his wishes. You hated yourself for this, for not putting up more of a fight, but what other choice did you have? You tossed the nightgown to the side, now wearing only a simple pair of white cotton underwear, your arms wrapping around your chest protectively.

He took a few steps closer to you; just looking up at him from this angle caused memories from that day at Robichaux’s to flood back to you. He lifted his foot, and for a second you flinched, thinking he was going to kick you. Instead, he held his shoe to your face, pressing the toe against your forehead. 

“Thank me,” he said simply, and you furrowed your eyebrows, looking up at him with an expression of confusion. “Go on.”

Was he really…? You blushed, vaguely humiliated as it dawned on you what he wanted from you. You stuck out your tongue and dragged it from the heel to the tip, your face screwed up in disgust as you tasted the dirty sole of his shoe. When you finished, he set his foot back down, beaming. 

Then he reached down and gripped your hair by its root, yanking you to your feet and causing you to let out a yelp. He took your face in one hand, turning it to look at him. “You will do as I tell you. If not, you will regret it. Is that understood?”

You bobbed your head up and down and he released you, reaching up to run his long fingers down the chains that hung above your head. He looked at you expectantly and you held up your hands, allowing him to fasten the cuffs onto you. 

He took a step back and admired his work with a look of smug satisfaction. You hung your head, the cold metal of the chains digging into your wrists and keeping you in place, skin prickling under his gaze. “Exactly where you belong,” he remarked, making his way to an undisclosed spot behind you- you had no choice but to wait with your back to him as he rifled through something, several mysterious objects making contact with each other. 

There was a short bout of silence, and then he reappeared in front of you. Your face fell when you noticed he was brandishing a fucking whip, and right away you opened your mouth to protest. “Ah, ah, ah,” he said, shaking his head slowly as he leveled the weapon in his palms. “You brought this on yourself.” 

You pressed your lips shut as he circled behind you again, gently running the whip along your skin. “Count them,” he said, his tone bored like he’d done this a hundred times before. He brought the whip away from you briefly, and then it came into contact with your back, full force. You grit your teeth, tears already escaping your eyes, but managed to speak, albeit shakily.

“One.” Crack. Holy shit, that hurt. You’d only ever witnessed whippings in movies, and never had really considered the way it would feel in real life. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how bad each crack stung, though; at least you could keep that little bit of dignity. “Two.”

Crack. “Three.” Crack. The whip hit your shoulder and you hissed, unable to wipe away any tears that flowed freely down your face. “F-four.”

The strange thing, however, was the moisture that had made itself known between your legs, soaking through the fabric of your underwear. Your nipples had peaked and hardened, skin erupted in goosebumps. You really, really hoped Michael wouldn’t notice you were enjoying this. That, to you, would be even more humiliating than being chained up and whipped in the first place.

Crack. “Five.” It came out as a sob, and you tensed when you heard the snicker from behind you. You felt his fingers run along your fresh wounds, crying out at the stinging sensation that demanded your attention.

“Have you had enough?” he said softly, brushing your hair over your shoulders so he could feel the hot skin of your upper back. He walked around to your front, placing two fingers beneath your chin. “Shall I grant you mercy, again?”

“I don’t need your mercy,” you said.

He seemed taken aback for a moment, but quickly resumed his calm exterior, expression indecipherable. Then, right when you thought you’d gotten to him, his palm made hard, sharp contact with the side of your face.

“Very well, little slut,” he sneered, and your heart increased its pounding as his anger became apparent. “I’ll continue your punishment, and you will keep counting. If you take too long, I will make it hurt worse.”

He returned to his position behind you, lashing you the second your back was in full view to him. “Six,” you cried, chewing your bottom lip in an attempt to distract yourself from the pain.

He hit you again, harder than any of the other lashes, and you were certain you would’ve fallen to the ground had the restraints around your wrists not been present. “Seven.” 

This went on for some time, your words catching in your throat each time you were forced to count aloud. When he’d finally finished, you were a quivering mess, your bare back likely striped with angry marks. He set the whip off to the side and touched the injuries he’d inflicted, humming softly to himself. 

“You enjoyed this, didn’t you?” he breathed into your ear, making your hair stand on end. He slid his hand down your back, over the welts and down over your ass, finally easing his hands between your legs and feeling your folds through the thin cotton. You shuddered, his fingers teasingly pressing against your clothed clit. “You’re soaked.”

You didn’t respond, squeezing your eyes shut as he used his hand to ease your legs apart. “Tell me how much you enjoyed it.” 

“I-I loved it,” you croaked. What did you have to lose anymore? You’d already given him your dignity. You were in your underwear, your arms chained above your head and back covered in lashes, for god’s sake! 

“You’re really are a whore, aren’t you?” he muttered, toying with the waistband of your underwear before it completely disintegrated under his touch, leaving you fully naked. 

He used his shoe to kick your legs apart, grabbing your ass roughly before slipping his hand underneath to run along your outer lips. “Don’t even think of coming without my permission,” he said. 

He rubbed your clit lightly with his fingertips, proceeding to slide them through your wetness and dip them into your entrance. You whined, and he stopped upon hearing your voice, indicating that he wanted you to stay silent. Once you’d calmed down, he returned to touching you, two fingers entering you roughly. It was harder keeping yourself quiet with your arms chained above you, since you weren’t able to stifle your sounds of pleasure by covering your mouth, but you tried your best in fear that he’d stop should you disobey him.

He thrusted up into you, meeting a steady, fast rhythm as he fucked you with his fingers, rings and all. You bit your lower lip hard enough to draw blood, fingers wrapping around your bonds so tightly your knuckles turned white. He was fucking ruthless; there was no doubt in your mind that he was loving this, seeing you writhe under his touch as you fought to follow his commands. 

He added another finger, stretching your walls; you lost control and let out a long moan, and his other hand, which had been wrapped around your waist, emerged to slap your ass as a warning. 

He was fucking you hard enough that you’d probably be sore tomorrow, eyes watering as you attempted deep breathing techniques to keep quiet. At this rate, you weren’t going to last much longer, and it would take everything in you not to come, which you assumed was his intention. He wasn’t going to make this easy for you. 

You clenched around him, your chest rising and falling with each strangled breath, mouth desperate to open and let out a scream. This was too much, way too much, and you couldn’t take it, you weren’t going to last–

He pulled his fingers from you and you groaned. You should’ve known he’d pull something cruel like this, but you couldn’t shake your disappointment, your juices dribbling down your inner thighs. You heard him unzip his pants, causing you to perk up, and he gave your hair a harsh tug.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” he asked, and from the rustling sounds coming from behind you, you could tell he was pulling himself from the confines of his boxers. 

“Y-yes, sir,” you said. 

“Tell me how bad you want it.” He sounded indifferent, aloof, but you knew he only wanted to frustrate you further. 

“P-please, I want it so bad, I need it.” You felt the head of his cock brush your entrance, and you held back a needy moan. “Please. I’ll be good from now on, I’ll do whatever you want-”

He lifted one of your legs and held it up, sliding himself inside you with ease. You remembered how big his cock had been, but to feel it inside you, filling you up? It was indescribable. 

He grunted, his chest pressed against your wounded back, hips thrusting upwards to impale you hard. He snaked his other hand around your front, finding your neck and squeezing it, and continued to fuck you like this, keeping you in his desired position. 

You were almost grateful for your restraints, as you were sure you’d collapse without them, your legs turning into jelly beneath you. Every few seconds he’d hike up your leg further, giving him better access to you, each thrust pointed and deliberate. You wanted to hate yourself for this, for allowing this evil man to destroy your pride like this- not once, but twice. Now, though, you had no excuse: you weren’t begging for your life. You were merely giving in to your selfish desires, despite the terrible things he’d done to your sisters.

And you fucking loved it. You wanted him to own you, to show you who you belonged to. He choked you harder, causing you to become lightheaded, limp under your chains as he pounded into you with intense upward thrusts. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head, unable to hold back your sounds of pleasure any longer, but he did nothing to stop you, most likely too wrapped up in his own pleasure.

“You will ask me permission to come,” he told you gruffly, and you nodded, enjoying the way his rings dug into your throat. Pushing yourself back against him, hoping to feel every inch of him inside you, you gasped- the head of his cock brushed hard against your spongey inner walls.

The coil inside your stomach began to unravel, and the feeling of his cock twitching inside you only expedited this. You gripped your chains tightly, holding on a little longer, but you knew you only had so long before you completely unraveled.

His hold on your throat tightened, and for a fleeting moment you worried you’d lose consciousness. However, it loosened again as his thrusts quickened, much sloppier now as he came closer to reaching his climax. You panted, realizing you were dangerously close. 

“May I p-please come?” you asked him, preparing to let go.

You felt him orgasm, his load shooting into you and warming your insides, but you held off your own in wait of his answer. You felt him push away a strand of hair which covered your ear, his lips brushing against the back of your ear and sending vibrations through your body when he spoke. 

“No,” he said simply, almost sounding like he’d sung the word.

He put your leg back down and pulled himself out of you, and you gaped, unable to comprehend what had just happened. You heard him zip his pants up again and refasten his belt, and your stomach dropped at the finality of his actions. Was he really going to leave you high and dry like this? 

Of course he was. Again, you chided yourself for expecting any different. You held back an exasperated sob as he unlocked your bonds, rubbing at your wrists which had bloomed over with bruises from the unforgiving metal. Then he walked around to meet you, brushing his thumb over your cheeks to wipe away your dried tears.

“Clean yourself up,” he said, eyes glinting as he regarded you, before turning around and leaving you alone with your thoughts. Dumbfounded, you reached down to your nightgown and dressed yourself, stunned by your lack of release. You walked out into the hallway and made your way back to your room, your entire body aching from having been used. The only thing you had left to do now was pray- pray that next time, Michael would be kind enough to show you some mercy.


End file.
